


The Sun and the Sea

by SleepyPlant



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, I'm still not over it, It's been ten years, Katara is a badass, What am I doing, Zuko is a dork, Zutara Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 08:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyPlant/pseuds/SleepyPlant
Summary: Welcome to a series of drabbles based in the World of Avatar and corrupted by my wild imagination. Please mind the gap. Cross-posted on FanFiction.net





	1. The Fire Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people whisper that the seat is cursed, a final act of defiance before Fire Lady Mehalia put a sacred obsidian dagger through her heart. Not one Lady or Princess since then has had the chance at a long and happy life. But if anyone can overcome the impossible, it’s Katara.

The first time she hears about the so-called curse, She’s making rice porridge in the palace kitchen for a feverish Zuko. She’s fuming mad, muttering curses royal advisors Yi Feng and Hyun Bin are still for pushing for another round of marriage interviews even as their Fire Lord, THE MAN THEY SUPPOSEDLY SERVE, lies cocooned in his bed, barely conscious and near dead from stress and fever.

“-Honestly don’t know why they bother.” She overhears one of the bakers, a plump, muscular man named Kidlat say to the young dishwasher as he kneads the dough for tomorrow's pork buns.

“Everyone knows the poor thing will probably only last a year or two anyway. If any seat was ever cursed, it’s that of the Fire Lady.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? What curse?” the young dishwasher says, pausing in his scrubbing of the big copper wok. Kidlat waves a flour covered arm, rolling his eyes up to heaven.

“Kids these days, don’t know one lick of history. The CURSE boy! It’s only haunted the royal family since the reign of Fire Lord Sozin!”

“I know plenty about history!” The boy yelps, indignantly. “Curses are just legends used to scare naughty children into behaving. They're not real. Not anymore, anyway.”

Kidlat snorts, shaking his head condescendingly. “I thought the same thing about dragons, boy and now there's one sleeping on Lord Zuko's pillow. Trust me, the curse is real and it’s going to be the reason the royal line dies out.”

“Careful Kidlat. Better not let Jun catch you talking like that. He’d think it’s tantamount to treason.” Lin Su says placidly, casually breaking the joint on a huge hanch of hippo-beef.

Kidlat snorted again, but Katara didn’t miss how his eyes darted around for a few seconds as if expecting the imposing head chef to jump out of the shadows behind the produce crates.

“I’m not saying I don’t like the kid. He’s got a good heart and Agni knows he’s better at the whole ruling thing then his humming-bat brained sister. But you got to admit, not many of the Fire Ladies have lasted too long since Lady Mehalia stabbed herself in the heart.”

Lin Su shook her head, lopping off the huge shank of the hippo-beef with one clean whack of her cleaver. “Come on Kidlat. You can’t tell me you really believe all that komodo-rhino shit about the sacred dagger and the blood pact do you?”

Kidlat threw his arms wide as if to encompass the entirety of existence. “The Avatar took away Ozai’s bending. The Airbenders are alive. Dragons exist. My brothers saw the spirit of the ocean destroy a whole fleet of Fire Nation dreadnoughts and our Fire Lord defeated his psychotic prodigy of a sister on the day of Sozin’s Comet, when she was at her strongest, even if she was a few pig-chickens short of a flock and I’m married to an Earth Kingdom girl whose town I once held hostage. At this point, Lin? You could probably tell me the moon was made of cheese and I wouldn’t even blink an eye.”

“What dagger? What blood pact?” said the dishwasher, looking as confused as Katara felt. Lin Su waved her hand dismissively.

“Story goes that Fire Lady Mehalia didn’t like he husband all that much. Course I don’t blame her. She was fifteen married to a man old enough to be her grandfather and there were rumors about Sozin that- Well it doesn't really matter. Point is, she didn’t like him and her family had traveled a lot before she became Fire Lady so she had friends all over. In fact, there was a rumor about her and a monk at the Northern Air Temple, kind of an Oma and Shu type of thing, but that's never been confirmed. Anyway, she was apparently in labor when the Comet arrived and Sozin had her and unborn baby Azulon transported to Crescent Island for safe-keeping cause nobody really knew how fast the other nations were going to act once they realized what was going on. Now if you’ve ever looked at Crescent Island on a map, it’s real close to the Earth Kingdom coast. Like, on a clear day you can see the buildings on the harbor close. And Sozin had told a certain section of the Fire Nation Navy to go up and down the coast setting fire to all the port towns to prevent them from rushing to the Air Nomads aid. Apparently, the entire coast, for miles on end burned unbroken for a week. SO, Lady Mehalia smells the smoke and sees the fire and freaks out. Rumor has it she tried to tear one of the Fire Sages eyes out, so they decide to lock her in the inner sanctum so she wouldn’t hurt newborn Azulon or anybody else. Problem was, they forgot about Agni’s obsidian dagger hidden under the floor in front of the altar.”

“And!?” The dishwashers eyes were bugging out, clinging to every word that fell from the butcher's lips. Katara was too.

“And nothing. They found her the next morning, dead as a doornail with the dagger sticking out of her heart. That’s it.”

The dishwasher was shocked, and maybe vaguely disappointed. It was at this point that Kidlat scoffed.

“That’s not the story and you know it you old cobra. See kid, what happened was- Wait. Do you smell something burning?”

Katara could smell it too. It was very immediate, almost as if…

She looked down at her pot of rice porridge and swore out loud. The sides and bottom of the pot were black with burnt rice grains and the porridge had turned into a viscus puke brown sludge.

Fuming, Katara looked up to see all three of them staring at her with open mouths. Kidlat looked like he was going to be ill.

“Umm… Hi. I’m, uh… sorry about that. That doesn't normally happen.” She spoke lamely, feeling her face flush with shame. Not only had she burnt a stupidly simple dish to a crisp and given the poor dishwasher more work to do, but she had been caught eavesdropping as well. What would they think of her? Scratch that, what would GRAN-GRAN think of her?!

“Oh… Uh, don’t worry happens all the time.” Lin Su was the first to find her voice giving Katara a strained little smile. The dishwasher looked as if he might faint.

“Uhh… you didn’t happen to-” Kidlat said before Katara cut him off, way, way too quickly.

“Oh no, absolutely nothing didn’t hear a thing about Lady Mahalia!” She said brightly, while she inwardly slammed her head into the nearest pillar. Repeatedly.

Kidlat clearly doesn't believe her but seems too nervous to argue with her.

“Well… Ok… That’s good. NOT good like it was something bad or anything or we were disrespecting Fire Lord Zu-!” He says trying to cover his flub, but Lin Su slams an elbow into his gut causing him to shut up. Her brittle smile is still firmly in place.

“Haruto, help Lady Katara with her…” A moment is given to analyzing the mess in the pot.

“...Pot please.”

Haruto, the young dishwasher that has been looking like something had ripped his soul from his body, snapped to attention and practically saluted Katara. He was on her fast as and eel-hound on steak. 

“Please, Lady Katara, allow me-”

Katara clutched to pot to her chest, partially out of embarrassment and partially because it went against every bone in her body to let someone else clean up HER mess.

“Thank you, Haruto, you’re very kind, but I need to do this myself. I hate having other people do my work for me. If you’d be so kind to give me a bit of soap and a scrub-brush I’ll have it back to you by tomorrow morning good as new.”

“But… Lady Katara-”

“I’m afraid I must insist Haruto. Besides, I’m from the Southern Watertribe. If I can’t even do this for myself people will think I’ve gone soft!”

“Ok… If you’re sure Lady Katara…”

“I am. And it’s just Katara, really.”

The items are procured quickly, if with a lot of banging around in the back and she is presented with an entire bar of good white soap and a scrub brush that is too pristine to have ever been used before now. She thanks them all profusely and beats a hasty retreat, hearing their voices start up again slowly, now at a much quieter volume.

33333333

“Xiulan, what do you know about Fire Lady Mehalia?” Katara asks after a poe of nothing, flipping through land use regulations and possible blueprints for the new hospital she and Zuko are going to present to the council tomorrow.

The reaction is instantaneous. Xiulan, who had been quietly tidying loose papers and pulling relevant scrolls from the library shelves, squeaked in shock and dropped the scrolls she had been carrying with an audible thump on the thick red carpet.

“I...I’m so sorry Master Katara! I’ll clean these up right away!” She gasped, dropping to her knees and hastily trying to gather up the fallen scrolls.

“It’s fine Xiulan, no harm done. Here let me help you…” Katara said, dropping to her knees to chase a scroll on public building codes that had rolled under her desk. Xiulan looks like she wants to protest, but after two years of working with Katara, the petite Fire Nation woman has learned that there are some things that her lady employer simply will not budge on, so she accepts Katara’s help with a profusion of thanks and completely disregards Katara’s embarrassed rebuttals of her praise.

“Well now that particular disaster has been avoided,” Katara says, carefully placing the stacked scrolls on a clear corner of her workspace.

“Would you mind telling me why everyone acts like I just poured ice down their backs when I ask about Fire Lady Mehalia?”

Xiulan chews her lip nervously, eyes darting around as if scared an assassin is going to jump out from behind the rows of bookshelves.

“I’ve heard rumors but- That is to say- There's a lot the public doesn't know about how-”

“Xiulan,” Katara says gently, placing a comforting hand on the younger woman's shoulder.

“If your not comfortable with telling me that’s ok.”

Xiulan frowns, hard, before a flash of determination passes across her dark brown eyes and she holds up one perfectly manicured finger.

“Wait just a moment, Master Katara. I’ll be back shortly,” she says before running; or as close as Fire Nation ladies get to running, deeper into the depths of the library. She returns fifteen minutes later struggling under the weight of an enormous vellum scroll that must be as long as she is tall.

“The royal family tree!” She huffs placing the monstrous roll of paper on a nearby table, a digs a beautifully embroidered handkerchief out of her sleeve to dab at her sweating brow before becoming all business once more.

“Now, the current dynasty is only about 600 years old, give or take a couple decades,” She says, carefully rolling out the crackling vellum and exposing the faded, crabbed brushstrokes of some long dead scribe. “That being said, they can still trace their bloodline back to that of the Dragon King Agni and His Queen, Lady Agneyastra, so this might take a while.”

Indeed it does. It becomes clear that the scroll is not one piece of vellum, but several, with new parts being stitched on with thread made of animal sinew whenever the authors began to run out of room and overflow the page. In some sections the writing is so smudged it looks like it was dropped in water, in another section an entire generation of a family tree is crossed out with white ink only to be written back in three sheets later. Several sheets look as if someone had to pull it out of a fire and most of the fire damaged entries are haphazardly re-stitched with fresh vellum strips or have the names re-written over the charcoal black burn sections with bright silver and gold inks. All told, Katara estimates the whole scroll encompassed roughly 5,000 years worth of births, deaths, and marriages, including more than a few instances of incest. Fathers with daughters, Mothers with sons, siblings with each other, which makes Katara supremely grateful that the practice seems to have been banned something like 3,000 years ago. Xiulan rolls it out, eyes scanning the rows of names and dates hawkishly whilst Katara’s job is to roll the already examined sections up around the heavy wooden dowel at the top to keep the fragile pages from dropping to the floor in an undignified heap.

Then Xiulan makes a noise of triumph and jams her finger at a crabbed name at the end of a distinctly fresher piece of vellum. “Found her! Let's roll it all up so it can fit on the table shall we?”

They do. Below Mahalia's piece of vellum is stitched a brand-new sheet. Glancing at the latest entry, she spots both Zuko and Azula's names including the dates they were crowned and, in Azula's case, deposed, next to that of Lu Ten. (Born on the 7th day of the 2nd month in the year of the Dog in the Royal Palace, Died in battle at Ba Sing Se on the 22nd day of the 8th month in the year of the Monkey, aged 23.)

Mahalia’s entry is starkly simple.

Fire Lady Mahalia; Born on the 12th day of the 5th month in the year of the Sheep. Married Fire Lord Sozin on the 17th day of the 6th month in the year of the Rooster, aged 15. Died in childbirth on the 28th day of the 8th month in the year of the Pig, aged 17.

Katara is now thoroughly confused.

“But if she died in childbirth, why does everyone say-”

“That’s the official reason,” Xiulan says, giving a little huff of breath which Katara has learned is the closest thing most Fire Nation nobility ever come to a snort of disgust in polite company.

“The rest is mostly rumors and hearsay and almost no two people have the exact same story about how it happened. If you want more I’d suggest trying the Royal Family's Personal Archives, but you need to either be an enrolled member of the Order of the Fire Sages or have an express invitation from a member of the royal family.”

The look in the younger woman's eyes can almost be described as mischievous.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get your hands on one of those, do you?”

Katara bites the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Oh, I might have some vague idea. Now come on. I’ll help you get this huge thing rolled back up so the librarians don’t yell at us.”

“They have a machine to do that. It runs on water power I believe.” Xiulan says, still looking at the imposing bulk of the scroll with some trepidation.

“But I wouldn’t say no to an extra pair of hands to help move this enormous thing. What say you Master Katara?”

Katara agrees wholeheartedly.

33333333

In the end, she gets Iroh to write her an invitation. Not that Zuko wouldn't, but he’s been running himself ragged preparing for the 3rd annual Conference of Nations to be hosted in the Fire Nation this year, and besides, she feels a little guilty to be digging into his family's personal life. (But not guilty enough to quench her curiosity.)

Iroh signs the slip of rice paper quite happily, in return for a promise of good tea and friendly conversation when she returns, which she is more than willing to give him. The archivist clearly doesn't like letting her in the darkened sanctum of his domain, but with the invitation clearly penned in Iroh’s effusive hand, he has no real reason to deny her. That doesn't stop his sharp black eyes boring into the back of her head as she takes the special hooded lantern and walks into the cobwebbed gloom.

It’s clear no-one but the archivist has been here in a very long time. A thick cloud of dust arises in a visible poof from the worn-down seating cushion that is the only seating option in the claustrophobic room. Luckily for her, however, the archivist keeps the actual shelves and volumes of scrolls meticulously clean, so much so as not even a speck of dust comes off on the thin white silk gloves the man had insisted she put on before coming in here.

Her first instinct is a bust, Fire Lord Sozin's personal papers contain little mention of his wife or even his young son, mostly being focused on military strategy, colonial planning and, in the aftermath of the comet, an increasingly desperate search for the missing avatar.

The royal steward's records are similarly disinterested in her and the royal physician's notes are clinically dry lines involving her weight, temperature, rapidly failing emotional state, eventual pregnancy and the progression of. 

As for Lady Mahalia herself, her personal effects are few and far between. A bundle of yellowed letters corresponding with friends and family from before she was married, including a deeply personal letter to a man named Chanpreet that Katara suspects might be the basis for the airbending monk rumor, a few pieces of signed legislation, her marriage certificate and a scrap of paper apparently torn from the back of a book that has three lines of unintelligible symbols of some kind hastily scratched across the surface.

Secret code perhaps? A note in the archivists cramped handwriting reads, but if it is a code the key to breaking it apparently died with Mahalia herself.

She finally gets a break after an entry in the captain of the guard's personal diary leads her back to Crescent Island and a young acolyte by the name of Shin, or rather, his older ‘brother’ Takahiro. The archivist apparently had complete copies of Takahiro’s personal journals, due to him becoming the head of the Order in the years following the comet, and in the 3rd volume, she found the whole sorry tale.

11th Day of the 8th Month in the Year of the Pig;

Milked ibex-camels. Pressed 200kgs tofu. Set 7 crocks of sardine-salmon to ferment with caldera-chilies and cabbage. Aired out bedding. Patched Shin’s pants.

Grand Master told us that he received a missive from the royal palace today. Apparently, Fire Lady Mehalila’s pregnancy is not going well and the Fire Lord has ‘requested’ that when her time comes that she will stay at Crescent Island with her midwives and entourage until after the baby is born, to beseech Agni and Agneyastra for a safe and healthy delivery. Many of the older brothers are not happy about this, stating that women have no place on Crescent Island, but Grand Master reminded them that she is a member of the royal family and thus, it is our duty to serve her and her unborn child to the best of our ability. Shin and the younger acolytes are simply excited to see new people, as our contact with both the main islands and the Earth Kingdom mainland has petered off as of late. I’m choosing to withhold judgment at this point in time.

15th Day of the 8th Month in the Year of the Pig

Turned and washed cheeses. Baked 130 loaves of bread with Brother Baek Hyeon. Taught the younger acolytes their letters. Transcribed the minutes of the Sacrist’s meeting with the Cellerar. Patched Shin and Chung-Ho’s pants.

There have been unsettling rumors flying around about the Fire Ladies upcoming arrival and it has been frightening some of the younger acolytes. Shin came up to me this morning to ask if it was true that Fire Lord Sozin… Well, it doesn't really matter. I could probably get hauled to the stocks just for writing it down in my own private journal. I told Shin it was NOT true and warned him against talking like that, as it was tantamount to treason. He was tight-lipped about where he heard the rumor, but I suspect some of the younger novices started it to scare the acolytes. I’m still dealing with the repercussions of the giant ‘Filth Snake’ that apparently lives in the toilets.

20th Day of the 8th Month of the Year of the Pig.

Patched Shin’s pants. Seem to be doing that a lot lately. Must remember to ask Brother Kuo about possible leather scraps to use as knee pads. Transcribed the 7 sacred poems. Aired out bedding. Made soap from hippo-cow fat. Ground herbs and made bandages for Infirmian Jiāháo.

A lot of Royal Navy Ironclads have been spotted off the coast as of late. I have had a very good view of it today, as rendering hippo-cow fat tends to smell and Chamberlain Laquan banished us to the beach to do it. Shin noticed as well and asked if they were here to deliver our monthly shipment of food staples early. When I expressed doubt, he then asked if we were going to war. Before I could speak Brother Yàntíng cuffed Shin on the back of the head and said. “Don’t you talk like that boy. Only young stupid fools like you want war.” I had to comfort a wailing Shin but quietly agreed that no, we were not going to war. But as I watch the signal fires of the ships passing by from my window, I can’t help but wonder.

27th Day of the 8th Month in the Year of the Pig.

Cleaned guestrooms. Milked ibex-camels and made 90kgs fresh cheese. Taught young acolytes basic maths. Assisted Brothers Qiang and Dae-Ho in the reorganization of the library. Sewed leather knee-pads on to Shin and several of the other acolytes pants.

If my penmanship suffers in this entry, it will be because I have been forced to write this entry by the light of the gibbous moon instead of by lamplight, as is my custom. Our royal guests have pushed several of us out of our sleeping quarters and Baek Hyeon has threatened to disembowel me with his bench knife if I keep him up and make him miss his 4 am baking session. Seeing as the bench knife is an incredibly dull piece of ceramic I deduce that the disemboweling he might do with it would be slow and agonizing painful so I must go without my customary light source in order to avoid incurring his wrath.

Fire Lady Mehalia is… reserved. I had heard rumor that she was no more than 17 years of age but it is one thing to hear from afar and another entirely to watch her maneuver her petite form around the temple halls encumbered by a massive protruding belly. She makes me think, painfully, of my sister Aarushi. I have not seen her face to face since my father visited the Island five years ago. But where Aarushi is bright and boisterous, Lady Mehalia seems timid and exhausted. Her contractions pain her greatly, and it does not seem that she has eaten or slept enough to sustain both herself and the new prince or princess inside her womb. The stress of the 3-day journey from the Caldera to here has done her no favors either and her gaunt appearance has left several of Infirmian Jiāháo’s staff to express doubt that either she or the child will survive the ordeal. The soldiers, three ironclads worth, do us no favors either. They are jumpy and cross and more than once they have appeared to be arguing only to fall silent when a brother or acolyte passes within hearing distance. The entire community appears to walk a razor-thin edge and I can only pray to Agni that nothing untoward will happen during their stay.

28th Day of the 8th Month in the Year of the Pig

I have no words. I am in a shock so complete it has rendered me almost unable to function. Have taken to sleeping in a cot outside the acolytes' rooms. Have to get up regularly to reassure myself they all are still alive. Many of the younger ones have not stopped crying. I fear they never will. 

5th Day of the 9th Month in the Year of the Pig

The events of the past week or so have passed in a blur. The entire temple is in shock. Agni above, the entire WORLD is in shock. Archivist Fu and the Grand Master have suggested journaling as a way to cope and have essentially ordered the entire temple to participate. I have not picked up a pen in days but if it is required of me, I will attempt to relay the events of the past 9 days with as much clarity as I can muster;

I awoke sometime around 4 am the morning of the 28th to the haze and smell of smoke.  
Hearing the faraway crackling of burning buildings I feared the temple had caught on fire and roused my fellow brothers to fight the impending blaze before running to the acolytes quarters to evacuate them to the relative safety of the beach, as is my prerogative as Assistant Schoolmaster.

I found all the acolytes awake and being herded beachward by Schoolmaster Hyun Shik and several sleep-deprived novices and fell into line behind them, taking a sobbing Myung-Dae from the arms of a panicked Shin.

We were accompanied by what appeared to be the entire temple barnyard, as I often had to shove my way through wild-eyed ibex-camels and grab young acolytes out of the path of panicking ostrich-horses only nominally controlled by Stablemaster Dishi and his staff.

The oppressive smoke made it hard to breathe or see more than about 20 feet ahead of us, but coming over a ridge I could see a great light from the Earth Kingdom coastline so bright I thought two suns had decided to rise in the sky, which only added to my own fear and that of my charges.  
We reached the coastline in a coughing, soot-blackened mass, where the novices and I set about cleaning and procuring sea-water soaked cloths for the acolytes while Schoolmaster Hyun Shik ran off to find out what was happening.

When a passing breeze lifted the fog of smoke momentarily, I saw I forest of Royal Navy Ironclads stationed all around the island, though none of them seemed very interested in the sooty crowd of people and livestock crammed on to the volcanic beach of Crescent Island. In fact, several seemed to be actively moving away from us.

The sounds of shouting drew me farther down the beach where I found several of the elders, including Schoolmaster Hyun Shik, arguing with a platoon of Fire Nation Navy about evacuating the island until the blaze died down. The officers replied that Crescent Island was in no immediate danger and to stay put until told otherwise.

This did not go over well, punctuated most strongly by Librarian Kiet gesturing toward the bright light and bellowing “You tell us the ENTIRE Earth Kingdom coast is aflame and we have NOTHING TO FEAR?!”

Which prompted to me to squint into the flare and smoke to behold the outline of the Earth Kingdom coastline, ablaze punctuated by the dull metallic shine of Royal Ironclads that appeared to disgorge wave after wave of heavily armored foot soldiers.

Suddenly it became clear where the other Ironclads were heading. We were at war. But with who, and why?

My question went unanswered for it was at that point a hysterical and well-dressed woman shoved her way to the front of the pack. “You have to come now!” She shouted at the Naval commander. “It’s Lady Mehalia-”

“She’s locked herself in the Sanctuary!”

The commander went quite pale, before turning to his second in command and, after extracting an affirmative that the latter would follow their orders no matter what, broke away with 5 of the platoons soldiers, trailed after by the well-dressed woman and half of the temple elders. It was at this point Schoolmaster Hyun Shik turned to me and ordered me to follow them. When I expressed a need to stay here and guard the acolytes, he snorted and told me “Why do you think I’m not going myself?! Go, boy! Don’t make me tell you twice!” before tossing me a wet rag with instructions to use it to cover my nose and mouth. With little other option, I ran to catch the rapidly disappearing crowd of people.

The smoke had pooled in a thick, eye burning mess in the low lying inner courtyard but as I climbed the stairs to the sanctuary the air became clearer and easier to breathe. At one point I glanced out the windows to behold three Royal Ironclads running down a half-destroyed Earth Kingdom trading junk that appeared to be trying to flee the burning coast. After that I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the stairs.

I arrived at the top of the landing to chaos. Crying ladies in waiting, shouting brothers and elders and the soldiers and guards trying to hack the giant bronze doors open. I spotted an older woman holding a wailing bundle which I could only assume was the newly born royal heir. There was no sign of Lady Mehalia. How had she even gotten in?

The commander from the beach seemed to be attempting to talk to the barricaded Fire Lady but judging by his increasingly frantic body language he had gotten no response. I honestly do not know how long we stood outside that door. It felt like hours, but it was apparently no more than a few minutes before the Grand Master could be found to give the beach commander the key to unlocking the doors.

It is the blood I remember most. There was a thin trail of it, running in a jagged, stumbling line toward her final resting place. Apparently, Mehalia had still been bleeding from giving birth to Prince Azulon a mere 2 hours earlier. It had pooled around her prone body, soaking her white silken shift the color of yew berries. In the dancing light from the burning coast, the red stains and the slowly congealing pool of blood seemed to reflect burning faces writhing in agony. 

On the wall, carved with the rough edges of the knife that now lay buried in her heart, was a deadly simple phrase. 

Death to the Mothers and Daughters of Dragons.

33333333

“I see… And you said you nearly ran out of there?” Iroh said, refilling Katara’s speedily emptied cup and passing back over to the wide-eyed Master Waterbender.

Katara laughed weakly, gulping down another hot mouthful of Iroh’s calming tea.

“Not nearly, Iroh. I’m pretty sure I bolted out of there like a pack of Adlet and all their bone chains where on my tail. I barely remembered to give the Archivist's gloves back!”

Katara suppressed a shudder, gently setting the green glazed teacup back on to the polished ebony surface of the table.

“I’m no stranger to ghost stories. We have plenty back home to tell during the Dark Months, but it’s one thing to hear a story of something that happened long ago and another to see a detailed written record of it happening.”

Iroh nodded, setting his own teacup down on the table.

“That I can certainly understand. But I must ask my dear… What prompted this line of investigation?” Iroh’s calm and sympathetic demeanor was genuine, but deep within the golden eyes a flash of The Dragon of the West could be seen, patient and shrewd as a cat-snake. There was no deception or misdirection capable of surviving in front of that metallic gaze. Katara sighed.

“It all started back when Zuko was still running that fever. When I was cooking some porridge for him I overheard some of the kitchen-staff talking about the upcoming marriage interviews and one of them said that they didn’t know why the council bothered because apparently there was a curse on the Fire Ladies position and mentioned Fire Lady Mehalia as the starting point. I got curious, especially because I found out your Family Tree stated that she died in childbirth, but the rumor said that she committed suicide. Uhh, sorry about that.” She added, wincing. She wouldn’t want to be reminded that any family member, especially your own grandmother, had taken her own life, even if she’d never known her in person.

“It’s quite alright Master Katara, though I thank you for compassion.” the old general said, the draconic glint vanishing to be replaced by a sort of sad resignation. He smiled gently.

“Remember what I told you about open secrets?”

Katara nodded. The concept had confused her at first. There was no such thing in the Southern Watertribe. Secrets where secrets, either you knew them and other people didn’t, or everyone knew about it and it wasn’t a secret anymore. The concept of everyone knowing something yet actively pretending that they had no idea what anybody was talking about had come as a bit of a shock to her, especially considering she had first been introduced to the idea in the halls of the repressive Ba Sing Se elite with no prior knowledge of the concept and a war raging outside the city walls. Apparently, it was also common practice among Fire Nation nobility, which had led to an impromptu lesson in etiquette by Iroh within a month of her arrival in the palace, even though both he and Zuko agreed with her that many of the ‘Rules’ were antiquated and arbitrary, at best.

“I’m guessing Fire Lady Mahalia's death is one of those?” She sighed, reaching up to rub her suddenly aching temples. Iroh nodded.

“That, her life, the inner workings of the Royal Palace under Fire Lord Sozin. And of course, the debated aftermath of the alleged curse. You see, my own mother was assassinated when a mob invaded and burned the Summer Palace to the ground when I was only 5 years old and Ozai’s mother, Lady Boonsri, died of yellow fever when he was about 10. That combined with Ursa’s disappearance, Azula’s madness and my own sweet Ying Yu’s death giving birth to my beloved Lu Ten have lent a disturbing amount of credibility to Lady Mahalia's prediction, or curse, as it may be.”

He shook his head, as if trying to disperse a cloud of dire thoughts and sighed again.

“In my darkest moments, I too have almost believed it to be true. Quite a few daughters of dragons have fallen before their time and I can certainly see why many young women and their families would be reluctant to send themselves into the tigerdillo’s mouth by tying their family line to that of my nephew and I, even without an apparent curse hanging over our heads.”

Katara snorted, thinking back on the squabbling nobles, the assassination attempts, the crumbling infrastructure, the arguments over respirations and trade with spiteful dignitaries, the mess of restarting the national economy away from war and colonization and Zuko’s seemingly constant attempts to kill himself via overwork.

“Yeah, I can see why.”

This prompted a laugh out of Iroh.

“Indeed! If the young lady is hoping for an easy life as a figurehead and mother of the next generation she is going to be severely disappointed. Not that I would wish any partner like that on my nephew.” He added, picking up the now lukewarm tea and taking a sip. Katara followed suit.

“Luckily, or perhaps, unluckily, power and prestige are their own motivations. My Nephew will not lack for offers, but I worry about the long-term stability of a match based solely upon how much influence the young woman or her family will have upon my Nephew’s decision making. Especially given his stubborn streak, which you are quite well acquainted with.”

Katara rolled her eyes, but couldn’t quite stop the small smile that spread on her face.

“That’s an understatement. So what are you hoping for? For Zuko’s wife, I mean.” Katara said reflexively quashing the niggling feeling in her stomach that seemed to appear everytime Zuko’s potential marriage partners were discussed. Iroh looked thoughtful and set his teacup down again.

“That is quite a question… I suppose I would hope for someone smart… compassionate… diplomatic of course but not a doormat… She will have to work closely with my nephew rebuilding our nation back to its pre-war glory and reestablishing connections to the other nations, not to mention the shipload of social, economic and political reforms required for us to move forward into the new century. She should be independent and self-sufficient, we have no need for a meek figurehead who only follows blindly. Speaking of which, leadership qualities and a certain amount of inborn charm and charisma would help immensely. She would need to be fluid in her thinking to navigate difficult political terrain, but she must also be deeply principled and not afraid to put her foot down and rock the boat should the need arise.”

Iroh tapped his index finger against the gleaming surface of the table, collecting his thoughts once more.

“Let’s see… Her values would have to align with Zuko’s in the important things, but it’s also important that she pushes him to see outside himself and his worldview. And given how frequent attempts on my nephew's life are the ability to defend herself confidently would be a weight off all our minds. An impressive pedigree wouldn’t hurt either. It would certainly quell complaints from some of the more traditional nobility.”

The old man nodded to himself, looking back up at Katara with a happy smile.

“The rest is just what every man hopes for in a daughter-in-law. A sense of humor, a skilled dancer, witty, kind, a good conversationalist, the chance of adorable grandchildren-”

Katara had to laugh at that one. Iroh’s smile just grew wider.

“And that she and Zuko would love and care for each other just as much as Ying Yu and I loved each other, however briefly I had her.”

Katara stopped laughing at that. Iroh’s smile was still in place, still warm as ever, but a sorrow-tinged it now, a nuance of deep longing and loneliness that Katara suspected occupied many of his waking hours, dampened and distant, if ever so briefly, from his beloved nephew the land of the living to the wife and son lost to the land of the dead. Katara reached across the dark expanse of wood and took his soft, warm hand in her own.

“Well, we will just have to be the best matchmakers in the history of the Fire Nation and make that happen.”

Iroh burst out laughing, the dampness in the corners of his eyes finally coalescing into tears of mirth. “While I doubt my nephew would appreciate having to find the best matchmakers in our history just to find a date, I appreciate the sentiment.” Iroh chuckled, wiping away the salty tear tracks with the hem of his sleeve.

“And I thank you for listening. I had only gotten halfway through before Lady Hue told me in no uncertain terms that a woman like that does not exist anywhere in the Fire Nation.”

Katara huffed. “Well, she clearly isn’t looking hard enough. And even if it’s true, there's an entire WORLD outside these islands. There has got to be at least ten girls who fit that description somewhere out there, minimum. Toph for one, though I doubt either she or Zuko would ever take that idea seriously. She’d laugh herself sick.”

Iroh laughed once more. “Doubtful indeed, even if she does seem like an ideal candidate on paper. She could even evade the alleged curse as well, on account of her heritage.”

Katara’s brow wrinkled. “How? What does her heritage have to do with anything?”

“Your people have told you stories about how the first Waterbenders came to be correct?”

“Of course. The Moon was the first Waterbender and she taught our people how to watch the tide and the waves and flow with the ocean as she did. It’s the same as the Sky Bison teaching the Air Nomads and the Dragons teaching the firebenders.”

“Precisely! Dragons are integral to our way of life. The Royal line itself traces back to the descendants of the Dragon God King Agni and his human wife and many of our nobility trace themselves back to them as well. In that sense, almost all young ladies of noble blood are daughters of Agni or Daughters of the Dragon, if you will, but if you consider the rumored birth of our culture and bending, any woman born under our flag and living according to our way of life could consider themselves the Daughters of Dragons. But Toph, being of Earth Kingdom Nobility, would be exempt from Mahalia's curse simply because-”

“She’s Earth Kingdom.” Katara breathed, the final piece finally clicking into place. Iroh beamed the smile of a proud teacher to a prized student.

“Meaning?”

“She’s not a Daughter of Dragons. I don’t know what you would call her honestly-”

“Based on the story of Earthbending creation she would be a Daughter of Badger-Moles, but I do admit the title lacks a certain amount of gravitas alongside her myriad of other titles. The Melon Lord, in particular, is one of my favorites…”

“And Lady Mahalia's curse or prediction or something only specifies death to the Daughters of Dragons, thus automatically exempting anyone born in the Earth Kingdom or the Water Tribes. And the Air Nomads I suppose, but I’m pretty sure Zuko would kill Aang before they even got to the engagement ceremony.”

“Which would be a rather politically dangerous position, seeing as he is the Avatar,” Iroh responded, trying and failing to hide a smile.

“Which leaves Earth Kingdom nobility, of which there is a lot to choose from, and the Northern Water Tribe, many of whom I’m sure would jump at the chance to marry someone who treats them as an equal.”

Iroh, nodded, face taking on a deceptively innocent impression.

“The North… But not the South?”

Katara blushed at the insinuation but plowed on regardless.

“We don’t have structured nobility in the South. My father is chief, yes, but a lot of decisions have to be okayed by the tribe and even then the tribal elders have to agree it’s the best course of action. Not to mention we’re tiny compared to other nations, even our sister tribe. Even with the influx of people from the North and the men returning home from the war we still have barely 2,000 people. Besides, most of the eligible women got married when the men came home, and those who didn’t marry sweethearts home from the front are engaged to Northern Water Tribe men who came down to the South in search of wives and a chance to better themselves. You’ll be hard pressed to find a politically savvy, culturally fluent, unattached Zuko whisperer hiding down there.”

Iroh chuckled, the air of innocence melting into one of nearly unconcealed delight and mischief. “Oh, I highly doubt that we won’t be able to find anyone. But I must agree with you. She is certainly not down there anymore.”

The many questions Katara wanted to ask where interrupted by Zuko, who strowed into the tea room with a put-upon expression.

“Uncle, I need your help. The delegation from Hat Yai is here early and I could really use--Katara! I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hello to you too Nephew,” Iroh said jovially, even more used to Zuko’s abrupt nature then Katara. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“It’s definitely not a pleasure, Uncle,” Zuko said turning his suddenly flushed face away from Katara and towards his uncle.

“Hat Yai is here early which unfortunately means-”

“Governor Lek is early as well.” Iroh sighed smile falling into an unhappy frown.

Wonderful, Katara thought, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Governor Lek was a vain, arrogant and distasteful little man with a fastidiously groomed pencil mustache and views on women's roles in politics that make Katara want to punch his teeth so far down his neck he could bite his own ass.

Unfortunately, he also had a lot of political clout, Hat Yai being a major trading hub and was prone to raising a monumental stink whenever he believed this prestigious position had been slighted. It wouldn’t have surprised Katara at all if the vindictive little rat-skink had arrived early so he could berate Zuko for not being a good host, despite the fact his party had not been expected for THREE MORE WEEKS, just for the pleasure of undermining the crown prince.

“I’m assuming we don’t have the rooms prepared yet?” Iroh said.

Zuko snorted. “Rooms Uncle? We don’t even have the receiving room set up. I had to put them in the Sakura Tearoom!”

Katara winced. “How much mileage is the elbow leech going to get out of that?”

“Zi Hong managed to convince them that it was common procedure for less formal visits, but you know Lek. He probably heard less formal and is winding up a rant about respect as we speak. I could really use some help here.”

Katara's mind sprang into action. “Iroh, I need you to find Chamberlain Wuhan and get him to arrange for… How many people are there Zuko?

Zuko’s brow wrinkled as he struggled to remember. “Uhh, there's five nobles not including the governor and three of them brought there personal assistants, separate from their household retinue. About 30 people in total, I guess? I can ask Zi Hong for a more accurate count.”

“Okay. Iroh, find Chamberlain Wuhan and get him to arrange the staff to prepare 40 rooms, better safe than sorry, in the East Wing. They recently cleaned there so it will probably only be a matter of getting some fresh linens and airing everything out. Tell him we’ll need at least 6 noble suites with attached studies and make sure one of them is the Plum Blossom Suite. That should shut Lek up for a while at least. I’ll ask Xiulan to run to the kitchen to tell Jun we have extra mouths for dinner and ask if he can whip up something simple to keep them occupied in the meantime. Zuko, you accompany me to the tearoom. If they think that you were fetching me they’ll be less likely to raise a stink about you taking so long to formally greet them. Plus, the longer we can stall them, the better.”

Zuko, who had been looking at Katara with something approaching the expression a drowning man gets when he is finally thrown a rope, straightened up and gave a firm nod, eyes becoming as resolute and unbothered as the gold coins they resembled.

“Right. Okay then. We’ll take the long way around and pick up Councillors Pravat and Yijun as well. Both of them are heavily involved in overseas trade and neither of them like Lek very much, so we won’t be alone in there. Hell, I’m pretty sure Yujin will jump at the chance to put the governor in his place. She’s carried a grudge against him ever since the too beautiful to be in politics comment.”

“As well she should!” Katara sniffed angrily, standing from her seat to take Zuko's proffered arm.

“I personally would have frozen him to the ceiling, the pig!”

“I have no doubt about that.” The young Fire Lord proffered dryly, leading her out of Iroh’s private dining room and in to the halls beyond.

“For now, however, can we focus on solutions that won’t get me ousted in a violent military coup?”

Katara snorted, threading her fingers around his bicep.

“Please. We can take him.”

33333333

Iroh watched the young pair’s retreating backs as they walked down the hall, still bickering. Shutting behind them the door with a soft click, he began gathering up the tea things into one sensible pile to be taken to the kitchen for cleaning before ringing the bell which prompted the almost instant materialization of Songkarn, the manservant Zuko had insisted upon after he threw out his back 5 months ago. There wasn’t overmuch for him to do, Iroh being retired and quite used to being independent, but Song, as he was called, was a pleasant young man who could play a mean game of Pai Sho and could be counted upon to have his finger on the pulse of local events, a valuable trait in any staff member.

“Song, you wouldn’t happen to know where Chamberlain Wuhan is at this moment would you?”

Song’s brow scrunched in concentration for the moment. “Last I knew General, He was meeting with the kitchen staff and the butler to ensure we had enough provisions on hand for the Conference. I’m almost positive he’s there and if he isn’t, he’ll be meeting with the senior clerks in his office to draw up the budget.”

Iroh nodded. “Excellent. Thank you, Song. Please tell Han Qing that I am leaving to meet with the Chamberlain and if she can find her son to tell him to dust off my best tea set to be taken to the antechamber of the Sakura Tearoom with along with some of my favorite jasmine blend. We have had some unexpected visitors. I’ll be over there shortly.”

 

“Of course General. Would you like me to accompany you?”

“No thank you Song, I’ll manage. See you in a few hours.”

Satisfied with his preparations, Iroh walked out to the hall and down in the direction of the palace kitchens at a sedate, measured pace. At his age, dashing about the palace was no longer practical and besides, it wouldn’t do to arrive to greet the governor and his party sweaty and out of breath. It would be very undignified, at that little weasel-lizard of a man would no doubt delight of telling everyone he saw that the Royal Palace was in such disrepair the Fire Lord had to send his elderly uncle to run errands for him. Iroh personally believed that people who could not even stoop to speak to those who ran their household had no business being in power, but such was the way of the world. For now, at least.

Thinking about that brought his thoughts back around, as they so often did, to his nephew. Iroh was proud of him, had always been proud of him, but under that pride was a deep-seeded anger that the hot-tempered, gentle young boy he had to know had been forced to grow up so quickly. He hadn’t truly been a child since he was ten years old and had been forced to become a man at age 14 as Ozai’s fire seared the side of his face and banished him to the mercy of a hostile world with only a rusty ship and a bunch of old men and crusty sailors for company. And now he was Fire Lord. It was his birthright, his duty, and his destiny, of that Iroh was in no doubt, but once again Zuko was forced into a role much too big for any sensible person to expect a 19-year-old boy to fill.

When I was his age I was drinking tea in the garden and playing at being a soldier with my friends. When Lu Ten was his age he was writing poetry and falling in love too deeply with every girl he saw. Zuko has nearly died twice and is expected to run a country, rebuild the world and continue the royal line. I could kill Ozai if I thought that wouldn’t start a damn civil war.

The soft gurgle caught his ear and Iroh turned from his thoughts to view one of the inner gardens out the open doors. A little rock fountain burbled merrily, the clear water splashing into a pond that reflected the deep blue of the late afternoon sky. Along the edges, blood red peonies bloomed, some of the heavy blooms bending their branches so far the velvety petals almost kissed the surface of the pond, the dark hue of their reflections staining the blue edges a rich dark red. The spicy-sweet scent of them wafted on the passing breeze, mixed with the pleasant scent of running water and wet stone, ruffling the old general's hair.

Iroh smiled. The dark red peonies, symbols of honor and devotion reflected against the sky blue water, peaceful and serene, brought together in the reflection. He almost laughed. You did not get to be as old as he was without recognizing a sign, and this was one if he ever saw it.

With a new spring in his step, Iroh continued, thinking back to his nephew and the young master waterbender, arm in arm and playfully bickering as they set out to prove all doubters wrong. This time Iroh did laugh.

His nephew still had a world to restore and a country to run, of course, but suddenly the problem of a wife and the threat of the curse no longer seemed an issue.

After all, Iroh thought as the smells of the kitchen wafted down the hall toward him.

When his nephew was ready to find his Fire Lady, he wouldn't even have to leave the palace.

All he would have to do was gather up the courage to knock on her door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was always fascinated by the events leading up to the Hundred Years War. Ok not always. But ten years and a drivers license away from when ATLA first hit the airwaves have allowed me a lot of time to ruminate and come up with theories as to why certain things are the way they are. Mostly about the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes, which I favor for reasons that seem fairly obvious considering the title of this fic collection. One of the big mysteries to me was where the hell all those Fire Ladies got to. We all know what happened to Azula and it’s heavily implied that Iroh’s wife died in childbirth, given that Lu Ten is his only child, but the others are still shrouded in mystery. (And no Ursas fate is still unknown the comics are not cannon fight me.) 
> 
> Sozin must have had a Fire Lady, Azulon didn’t just appear, but she is nowhere to be seen and neither is it ever even implied that Azulon has a Fire Lady hiding somewhere in the palace. What happened to them? Where did they go? Why do none of the Fire Lords seem to have a healthy, loving relationship, Old Zuko from Legend of Korra included?
> 
> So I created Mahalia, a heartbroken, vengeful sixteen-year-old girl, married to an old man she never loved, pregnant with a child she had prayed would never come, who watches from her window as everything she loved goes up in smoke. That is some solid a-pox-on-both-your-houses level curse material if ever there was one. Throw in a sacred dagger and a chilling phrase scraped out with the last strength and you have got one hell of a story if I do say so myself.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> SleepyPlant needs a nap now, goodbye!


	2. Underwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko feels like he’s drowning. The courtiers, the haggling over trade deals, the numerous assassination attempts. Funny how the only thing that lets him catch a breath nowadays is being with the girl that embodies the water.

It had been nine hours. Nine hours of haggling, shouting, refusals and empty pleasantries that led nowhere. He was trying to pay attention, trying to be reasonable and calm as a good ruler should in this situation, but it has come to the point where locking the doors behind all of them and setting the room on fire would probably produce better progress toward an actual trade agreement then if all this arguing and grandstanding continued until the sun burned out. Zi Hong, his steward, looked almost as exhausted as Zuko felt, and the bodyguards, two behind him at two stationed at the door; Uncle had insisted upon after the latest string of assassination attempts, looked bored out of their minds. Enough was enough.

When he gave Zi Hong the signal, the man could barely conceal his relief. The shrill two-fingered whistle he gave, originally used to signal the sailors on Zuko's echoing rustbucket of a ship, effectively stopped all conversation. Zi Hong smiled a bright, brittle smile.

“Thank you. The hour is late and as we are having trouble finding a suitable agreement, the Fire Lord insists that we all retire for the evening so we may continue this-” Zi paused so briefly Zuko was pretty sure that everyone but he and the guards had missed it.

“...Debate bright and early tomorrow morning. Thank you all for your time.”

They both high tailed it out of there before the argument could begin anew.

33333333

Somehow, Zuko still wasn't entirely sure how his tired body dragged him past the door of the royal suite to land in front of one carved with a profusion of flowers and a pair of phoenix pheasants directly adjacent to it. His knock was answered by a shuffling of feet before the door creaked open to reveal the small, round face of Xiulan.

“Good evening your grace,” She said, bobbing a quick curtsy.

“What brings you here at this hour?”

Zuko chose to ignore the hint of reproach in her voice. He was too damn tired to worry about proprietary right now.

“Evening Xiulan, is Katara here?” The lack of title was another breach of etiquette, but Zuko had never understood why he would have to be formal about asking after one of his best friends just because she was a woman.

“Lady Katara is not in right now. She’s practicing her bending in the garden.”

Again, Zuko opted to ignore the passive aggressive emphasis on the title.

“Thank you Xiulan. You’ve been a great help.”

As he was walking away, he could have sworn he heard an exasperated huff and the door shutting a little louder then completely necessary. Zuko smiled. Some might say that Katara and her slight lady-in-waiting had almost nothing in common, but Zuko had always seen a deep resemblance between the two, personality wise. At the very least, they were both incredibly fun to wind up.

33333333

Katara was indeed in the garden, stripped down to her top wraps and a pair of loose fire nation pants, weaving a long snake of water through the air in a slow, liquid motion. Her body flowed with it, blue eyes closed and face relaxed as she felt the rhythmic push and pull of her element.

Not wanting to disturb her, Zuko sat cross-legged on the grass, taking a deep breath of the warm, wet, late spring air. The rainy season had started again and already some of the smaller creeks and ponds were beginning to overflow their banks and suffuse the air with moisture. As he watched, Katara wrang a bunch of water droplets out of the nearby air and added it to the fat coil of water above her head. Then in one leisurely motion, she mimed pouring a giant jug of water and the water construct smoothly funneled itself back into the turtle-duck pond, the returning water lapping and slightly sloshing over its masonry edges. She took a deep breath, watching the water settle as the ripples bounced off the brick edge.

“Rough day?” She asked, back still turned to him. Zuko startled.

“How did you..?”

“Your heartbeat. I was practicing using bending to see, like Toph does, and it’s as terrifying as it is amazing.” Katara replied, stooping to pick up her shed Sabai and rewrapping the deep blue silk around her upper torso. She flopped down beside him in the grass, exhaling a tired breath.

“Every living thing has water in it. EVERYTHING. And it’s constantly moving, all the time, even in plants. I could ‘see’ the entire garden at once and if it’s anything like what Toph sees with her earthbending it’s amazing she hasn’t gone insane. All that information, all the time. CONSTANTLY. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to walk down a busy street like that. Just sorting out one thing from another was exhausting!”

“Wow. Remind me not to cross either of you.”

She shoved his knee with her foot.

“Obviously. You should know that by now. But seriously Zuko, what's wrong?”

“Who said anything was wrong?”

“Your blood pressure, when you first walked in here.”

“How did you- right, waterbending, nevermind.”

“You're avoiding the question Zuko.” She said sitting up and meeting his eyes with her blue ones.

“I didn’t heal your heart just to watch you blow an artery from stress. What’s wrong?”

“Well to be fair, you could probably heal that too,” Zuko says but her unimpressed look prompts him to continue, “It’s the Wuxi-Chandigarh Steel Agreement. Neither side has given an inch and it’s been two days. I’m seriously considering setting them all on fire until they agree to be reasonable.”

“Normally I would argue against wholesale destruction, but if your day was anything like mine I can see why you’d want to.”

“I thought you liked working at the hospital?”

“No, no that was fine. Most of the amputees are making great progress. The hydrotherapy really seems to help, especially for those who are re-learning how to walk. Unfortunately, I was reminded there are still assholes everywhere.”

Zuko's brow furrowed, and he felt his own foul mood bubbling back up to the surface. “How so?”

She sighed deeply, flicking a piece of greenery off her shoulder. “I was chatting with Dr. Lỳ about some more possible improvements to the therapy programs. I saw an interesting herbal mixture involving dried chilies and the juice of some kind of desert plant when I was traveling in the Earth Kingdom that people rubbed on sore joints and muscles and I thought it might help relieve-”

“Kat. Your stalling.”

She glares at him, but there’s no fire in it. Mostly she just looks tired. She sighs heavily.

“Someone threw a overripe papaya at my head. And said something about whoring myself out to the Fire Lord and crawling back to my ice-flow to chew on baby bones.”

There is silence, save for the deafening roar of anger within his own head.

“Where was this.” his voice has dropped to a deadly soft growl, her mysterious assailant's nose crunching under the blow of his phantom fist.

“Outside the supply house but Zuko-”

“I’m tripling the security guards.”

“Zuko-”

“And rebuilding the exterior wall.”

“Zuko.”

“And imposing a new round of security checks.”

“Zuko!”

“Maybe the Blue Spirit should-“

“ZUKO!”

Katara’s shout brings him back down to earth. “What?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation, the muscles in her shoulders tight. “You can’t do that! How am I going to win anyone's respect as a leader here if people think I go running to the Fire Lord crying whenever someone says something nasty?!”

“You shouldn't have to!” His shout surprises both of them, but the anger is back now, boiling over the edge like lava in a volcano. He jumps to his feet and begins pacing, clenching and unclenching his hands as the fury overwhelms him.

“You're a War Hero Katara! The Avatars Waterbending Master, Daughter of the Chieftain of the Southern Watertribe. You're a prodigy, one of the greatest benders of our generation. You faced down my sister, boosted by the power of Sozin's Comet and WON! You saved my life!” He places his hand over the starburst-shaped scar on his stomach and just for a moment feels the agonizing heat of the lightning searing his flesh.

“You shouldn’t HAVE to prove yourself to anyone! They should be down on their knees, thanking you, not undermining your intentions and challenging you like… Like…” Words fail him. He stands stalk-still under the shade of the tree, glaring at the ground, breathing small jets of fire and steam. A soft brown hand touches the left side of his face, fingers brushing gently against the warped and rough ridges of his scar.

“Zuko…”

The flames calm, his fists unclench. Her touch is like sinking into a warm bath, soothing and comfortable. He surfaces.

“It’s not fair.” Her grouses, hating how much he sounds like a petulant child. Her soft laugh washes over him like a cool breeze.

“No, it not. It sucks.” Her hand slides down and grasps his. There is silence, save for the humming of cicadas in the trees.

“I could say the same things about you, you know.” She says quietly giving his palm a gentle squeeze.

He looks up. Her own eyes are trained at the ground, seemingly embarrassed, by his praise or her admission he isn’t quite sure. Nonetheless, he gives a raspy laugh.

“I find that highly unlikely.”

“I’m serious Zuko!” she insists, dropping his hand to give him a gentle swat on the arm, her eyes; those blue, blue eyes, the ones that never lied to him, even when they were enemies, locked on the opposite sides of a war, filled with a gentle warmth.

“All those things you were saying about me? That goes double for you. Your one of the kindest people I know. Not to mention brave and stubborn to a fault.” She laughs at the last part. He tries to scowl and fails. Miserably.

“Somehow I doubt it,” he says, but he has to bite the inside of his cheek to repress the smile in response to her praise. She just rolls her eyes and slides her hand into his once more.

“You're dumb.” She says, and those words should not make him feel as loved as they do.

“I know.”

A pause.

“You know that I am going to do all that stuff I said anyway right?”

“Let's just limit it to extra security checks for now. It would be helpful, some of the nurses are complaining about stolen medicine.”

“Plus an exterior wall and a visit from the Blue Spirit?”

“We’ll look into the exterior wall but no Blue Spirit.”

“Not even if-”

“No, Zuko.”

33333333

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

Breath is Life.

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

Breath is Fire.

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

Fire is Life.

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

Scorched bodies on a factory floor.

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

Bodies and bloodstains smashed on the street below.

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

Some were already burning when they fell.

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

187 funeral pyres. 187 urns in family tombs, some empty. They never found 27 of the bodies.

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

Most of them were women and children, scraping together extra hours to put food on the table. The youngest was twelve years old. The minimum age for employment was sixteen.

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

TWELVE years old. Just like Aang. Like Lee. Like Theo and The Duke and all the rest of them, burning to death as her mother tried to shield her from the flames.

Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4. Breathe in, 1-2-3-4, Breathe out, 1-2-3-4.

Dying choking on smoke, crushed under collapsing timbers, leaping out into thin air because dying with the wind in your face was better than being burned alive.

He screams.

33333333

When Katara finds him, he’s curled into a ball in the midst of the smoke and ash of the now destroyed training ground. He’s crying.

“TWELVE years old Kat.”

“I know.”

“A CHILD Kat!”

“I know.”

“I thought ending the war would…”

“I know.”

“Why them? Why do they have to make up for all our ancestor's mistakes? Why…”

He chokes on his own tears.

“Why is it OUR responsibility?! They’re the Agni-damned adults!”

“I know, I know. It’s not fair.”

“I hate this!”

“I know. I do too.”

After that, she just holds him close as he falls apart.

33333333

The next morning she delivers the rough draft for a Factory Safety Initiative they’ve been working on along with the latest details on the legal proceedings against the factory owners. They are accompanied by a long list of names and a note in her large, swooping hand. I’m going to pay my respects to the family's next week. Join me?

She doesn't have to ask twice.

33333333

“I’m going to kill you.”

He winces as the healing water prods the sensitive flesh of the stab wound.

“Hate to break it to you Kat, but you might need to get in line.”

If looks could kill, the glare she gives him would be enough to slaughter a pack of hyena-vipers. He gulps.

“You think this is funny?!”

He winces. Yep, definitely mad.

“Not really, but it's either laughing or crawl into a hole and never come out and I have a meeting with the Souhama delegation tomorrow. Or,” He says as he squints at the setting moon.

“Today, apparently.”

Her blue eyes burn like the embers of a star. “If you think I’m letting you within thirty feet of those buzzard-wasps you have another thing coming, Mister! You are staying in this bed to recover and that is final!”

A part of him wants to point out that he’s the spirits-damned Fire Lord and he can’t exactly play hooky from a meeting he himself called, but another part of him, the part of him that just got paralyzed and nearly stabbed to death, winces as her healing knitted the fibers of his muscles back together and remembers the look of terror on her face when she saw the two assassins standing over him, relents.

“They aren’t going to like it. They already think I don’t respect them.”

She snorts. “That's because you don’t, Zuko.”

“Not the point. Point is I’m the head of the Fire Nation and they have some of the richest mines iron and copper mines in the whole Earth Kingdom, so I’m going to have to negotiate with them. Even if they are greedy, exploitive petty gasbags puffed up on their own egos.”

She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She’s still mad at him after all.

“Xiulan and I can handle them. And before you get any cute ideas I already made Zi Hong clear your schedule and the Dragon Guard promise me not to let anyone in or out except approved staff members and me. That includes you, Mr. Fire Lord. You are staying in this room till I decide you're rested enough to leave it. I already told Jun you’ll be taking your meals in bed today.”

Damn bossy waterbender. Damn smart, pretty, bossy waterbender who already runs the palace like she owns it. Damn people who LET her run it like she owns it, himself included.

He gives up. “I assume you’ve already read the dossier?” 

She just smiles. She knows she’s won. He really should stop letting her do that, except for the fact that she’s almost always right.

Damn waterbenders.

33333333

Sometimes, Zuko dreams he’s under the ice in the Northern Watertribe again.

It’s not a nightmare, not really. Zuko knows nightmares, they’ve been his constant companions since he was ten years old since the sleep-deprived child he once was watched his mother walk out of his bedroom and out of his life. His nightmares involve the smell of burning flesh and hair, Azula’s unhinged laughter, Uncles disgusted face. A pair of ocean blue-eyes staring sightlessly up at a burning red sky.

It always is the same. He’s swimming in the seal tunnels underneath the ice, in a darkness made up of wavering blue and green lights. There is ice above him and ice below him and he can hear it creak and groan as it moves. Far above him, the battle is raging, but all he can hear is the muffled boom of cannons and the distant tromping of ice-elk boots somewhere far, far away from these saltwater filled crevices. Somewhere, in the depths of his skull, he knows he has to breathe soon, but that too seems far away. He’s numb all over, the only reason he knows he’s still swimming is that he can feel the drag of his boots when he kicks and sees his own pale, blue-tinted fingers pushing the water away from his face.

The tunnel doesn't seem to have an end, and even though logic dictates that there MUST be one, it seems so far away that it barely matters. He should be panicking, he WAS panicking, back in the real world, back in reality, back when he felt the burn in his lungs and felt his conscious dwindling as the icy water swallowed up everything, but he doesn't. He stops swimming.

And then he is nowhere, floating in a blue twilight without beginning or end. He’s much deeper then he remembers being, so deep that the twilight blue is beginning to fade to black below him.

It’s nice here, underneath the ice. It’s silent too, save for the creaking of the ice far above and the slow, steady thump of his own heart in the cavern of his skull. The water is even getting warm, or maybe that’s just the hypothermia setting in, but it’s not scary. It’s more peaceful than anything else, because all the sudden nothing really matters anymore, because it’s no Zuko's problem. He’s not even sure, as he starts to sink if there even IS such a person as Zuko anymore. The person he may or may not be closes their eyes.

And then he wakes up.

The first time he told Katara she was horrified, and that was the first time it really occurred to him that for most people a dream of sinking beneath an impenetrable wall of ice is probably one of the worst-case scenarios.

Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!

It’s not scary Kat. It’s more peaceful than anything else.

But even so that nightmare-

Isn’t a nightmare. Trust me Katara, I know nightmares and this dream isn’t one. If I’m being honest it’s on those nights I get the most sleep.

He blue eyes are impossibly huge, and she almost looks like she’s going to cry. He HATES seeing her cry.

Shit, Kat, I’m sorry, I’m okay really I swear-

Sorry? Why are you sorry?

Then her arms are around him and he can smell the lilac and peony in her hair. She tightens her grip around him.

I’m sorry.

She whispers.

I’m so, so sorry Zuko.

And somehow, even though he wants to protest and argue and question, all fight leaves his limbs as he buries his face in her soft brown hair.

It’s okay. I know. Thank you.

33333333

Sometimes being with Katara is like being in that dream, though he’d never tell her that.

It would be rude and more importantly, it would probably make her cry and, as stated before, he hates seeing her cry.

She also probably wouldn’t get what he was trying to say either. She might think that he meant being with her is like drowning but that’s not what he means at all. Being with Katara is the exact opposite of drowning. She makes him feel like he can breathe.

But that peace. That peace he finds floating in the depths of that endless blue waste. The warmth of it, the ability to forget, if only for a few precious seconds, that he is Fire Lord Zuko, Son of Agni, Commander of the Nine Army's, The Dragonborn and all those other lofty titles that seem to be as useless and temporary as lines scratched on the sand of a beach.

The peace he only finds in her bright smiles, the nimble tread of brown fingers, in soft curls the color of mahogany. 

In eyes blue as the space between the ice and the midnight depths.

Maybe he is drowning, lungs filling with delighted laughter and sarcastic eye rolls, angry tirades and thoughtful words shared over tea, the twirl of her body as she bends and the soft, warm breaths of sleep when he finds her passed out, curled around law scrolls or hunched over the blueprint for a new school.

He might be in love.

And between the two options, he’s absolutely certain the latter is much more terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I seem to have jumped the shark on this one. I got confused and posted this bad boy a whole day early. Well, at least I gave myself a buffer zone, I suppose. Now, how to finish three prompts I haven't even started yet in 6 days...


	3. Steamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zuko have an awkward heart to heart talk about relationships, girls, and proper sauna etiquette.

Sokka of the Southern Watertribe, Heir to Chief Hakoda, Son of Kya, Grandson of Kanna and Chief Kurtuk, is not dumb.

This does not mean he has never done anything stupid.

Going on a year-long mission to train the twelve-year-old avatar he and his sister found in the iceberg with no formal plan? Stupid.

Taunting his now fiance saying that girls couldn’t fight? Stupid.

Enrageing an ancient spirit of knowledge by stealing from his library? Stupid.

Breaking out his father and said fiance from the most secure Fire Nation prison ever devised with only a war balloon and the disgraced son of the Fire Lord? Stupid.

Drinking cactus juice? Kinda fun, actually, but also Stupid.

Point is he’s done a lot of stupid things. He accepts this; when it’s not being pointed out by his sister or Toph. He is, at times, plenty stupid. But he is NOT and this part is important, dumb.

It's a subtle difference, but an important one.

He’s very intelligent, people have told him so, even if Suki says it gives him a big head. He’s good at strategy and planning and the art of swordbending; no matter how hard Zuko rolls his eyes when he calls it that. And he’s observant.

Not all the time, of course. Everyone has their blind spots, things that they have trouble acknowledging are going on around them, and Sokka is no exception. Girls are a big one, he’s honestly not sure why Suki puts up with him sometimes. His sister is another because Girls and Katara are two very separate categories that have almost no overlap and never should because Katara is Katara and Girls are Girls. Even putting the two words that close together makes him vaguely ill.

Problem is, over the years Sokka has become very aware that for most of the male population of the world, the words Girl and Katara are so closely interwoven they may as well be synonymous. Whenever she walks down a street pretty much all the men, and a few women, in the vicinity might as well have the word GIRL stamped across their foreheads like Aang's arrow.

It’s not a problem of her taking care of herself, Sokka KNOWS she can take care of herself. He’s been told several times, both by her and his fiance and their friends, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what Master Waterbender means. He’s seen her fight and then went off the quietly thank his lucky stars Katara is his sister and not his enemy. As stated before, Sokka is not dumb.

No, the problem is that Katara can’t see, or possibly willfully ignores, the huge stamped GIRL on the foreheads of people she meets. And that's very bad, because even though she’s almost full grown, and her own woman and all that other important stuff, she will always and forever be his baby sister, and there are only so many skulls he can crack in a single setting before people start getting suspicious.

Aang's a prime example. The twelve-year-old monk was head-over-staff for her pretty much since she broke open the iceberg, but Katara could not have been more obvious to the airbenders massive crush if she were both blind and deaf. Actually, considering Toph, that might have made her ten times more observant.

Sokka hadn't been too worried about that. After all, as previously stated, the kid was twelve, and besides giving the way Katara mothered him the bald Avatar would soon discover he was barking up the wrong tree and go back to doing… whatever it was twelve-year-olds did when there wasn’t a war on.

It didn’t exactly pan out that way but that’s an entirely different topic.

The second one was Jet, and, to give Katara credit she DID see his GIRL stamp, but only because they guy practically threw it in her face. Sokka hadn't been pleased by that though, mostly because Jet was a smarmy bastard who used his sister's affection for him to almost murder an entire village, which HE, Sokka, the only one with his head on straight, had to bust his butt to save. To be fair though, she did freeze him to a tree when all was said and done but still. Bad couple of days all round.

The third one had been Haru, which, once again, Sokka hadn't been too worried about. Granted Haru had been sixteen, the oldest and, in theory, most experienced of the three, but the earthbenders shyness and complete lack of experience with girls combined with the strict societal rules of his culture, especially around dating and well, sex had rendered him an almost non-issue. Not that Sokka hadn’t threatened him with bodily harm if the earthbender stepped out of line with his sister, but honestly, it had more been out of habit than anything else, considering the earthbender blushed bright red at the idea of holding hands.

There had been others after that, but they were relatively minor. Teo’s age had relegated him into the same basic category as Aang and the street vendors and random villagers along their way had been pretty much dismissed as soon as they left town.

And then there was Zuko. To be completely honest, Sokka still couldn’t get an accurate read on Zuko. Back when they first met, the idea of Zuko being anywhere near his sister had been terrifying. His stomach had churned as he thought back to the handful pale-skinned children scattered among the sea of dark-brown faces, the ones they all watched for a trace of smoke or a flicker of flame.

Oddly enough, it had been the incident with the pirates that assuaged some of his fears. Sure, Zuko had still been a hot-tempered, no-good jerkbender, but he also had a strong sense of honor and a firmly entrenched set of beliefs in right and wrong which had removed him from the ranks of the so-called honorable soldiers of the Fire Nation that had haunted much of his early childhood. But still. The tree thing was way uncool.

For a very long time, Zuko had been the only guy in the ENTIRE UNIVERSE, that could look at Katara and not immediately have a huge GIRL stamp show up on his forehead. Zuko clearly noticed that she wasn’t a boy, of course, but the comprehension of Sokka's little sister as a GIRL was trumped quite soundly by the fact that she was the Avatars Waterbender aka, Boomerang Guys Little Sister, aka Bane Of Zuko's Existence Not Including Bald Flying Children.

It had been comforting, in a way. True, they were still narrowly escaping with their lives whenever they had the misfortune to run into him, obviously, but at least Sokka wasn’t also worrying about the possibility of the Fire Prince wanting to spread his Oogie's to Katara.

And then came Ba Sing Se. And the Catacombs. And after that Sokka lost control of the situation. To be fair, it wasn’t just him. Ba Sing Se had just fallen, Azula had shot lightning through Aang’s heart, Katara had to use the spirit water to bring him back from death’s door and then they were hiding on a stolen Fire Nation Ironclad with the remnants of the once great Resistance and a lot of other really bad stuff. He tried to talk to his sister about what went down in the tunnels once. The resulting explosion and subsequent week of icy silence had convinced him that it was a topic best left buried. Preferably in a locked metal box somewhere in the middle of the polar ocean where Toph wouldn’t be able to get to it.

Anyway, a lot had been going on, what with Katara pretending to be The Painted Lady, Sokka getting Space Sword, Aang trying to get them all killed by throwing a secret dance party in the cave they were hiding in, all while periodically avoiding getting killed by Combustion Man. And then there was the invasion and Hama and having to leave Dad behind (Again!) so suffice to say Zuko and the possibility of GIRL stamps had been the last thing on Sokka’s mind

And then Zuko showed up, unarmed and apologetic, at the temple and Sokka not only lost control of the situation but on what the hell was actually going on.

For one thing, Katara was PISSED.

All. The. Time.

And considering even he found himself replacing his mother's face with that of his sisters on more than one occasion, it meant that everybody in the temple was walking on eggshells and completely without focus which of course just made Katara angrier.

For another, even though his sister seemed to despise breathing the same AIR as he did, the former jerkbender seemed physically allergic to not helping Katara around the campsite. Zuko, it turned out could hunt, (Though he couldn’t fish to save his life.) prepare a decent meal and was most certainly the only person who actively VOLUNTEERED to help Katara with laundry and dish duty. (After their life-changing field trip, the other man had often giving Sokka grief about this point. “Seriously, Sokka your socks are toxic. The iguana-parrot who tried to steal Theo’s hat fainted dead away when it flew over them!” Sokka, mature adult that he was, had thrown one of his boots at him and told him to mind his own buzz-bird wax.)

But, little by little, it got better, Zuko’s path to acceptance easing exceptionally with every dirty plate he washed and every life-changing field trip he went on. Even Katara stopped glaring like he’d murdered her pet snowshoe-fox when he and Sokka brought Dad back. (And Suki and Chit Sang, but for Katara, Dad had been the really important bit.)

And then Azula happened, and Katara got angry all over again, which had prompted Zuko to show up in his tent and ask about the day their mom died, which had lead to the Southern Raiders and Zuko taking off with his sister in the middle of the night.

And then… Well, Sokka wasn’t quite sure. They came back, Yon Rah wasn’t dead, (Sokka had been simultaneously relieved and disappointed about that) and Katara had forgiven Zuko. And Zuko… Zuko was odd. Not necessarily in a bad way, just… different.

But they had a war to fight and a crazy Azula to unseat and a wayward Airbender to find and once again it had all got pushed into the background. And after THAT there had been treaties and respirations, reconstruction projects, old territory to reclaim, sell or fight over and about ten thousand different meetings that involved a lot of people yelling at each other until Katara or Toph BENT them all into silence.

(Katara usually dumped water over people's heads. Toph favored slapping everybody with metal muzzles till they calmed down. Being the World’s Only Metalbender had its perks.)

Zuko and the GIRL stamp question simply hadn't been important, or even visible. But something fishy was going on, and Sokka, as previously acknowledged, is not dumb.

And he was going to get some answers.

33333333

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

Sokka resists the urge to roll his eyes; “It’s a sweat lodge scaredy-marmot. We are going to sweat and engage in manly bonding activities to strengthen our connections as brothers.”

He DOESN'T add ‘And interrogate you about what the icy-hell is going on with you and my sister.’

The victim, or Zuko, snorts, though it sounds a bit forced.

“No, I get that. I heard it the last twelve times you told me. What I don’t get is why there appear to be discarded LOINCLOTHS in this changing room.”

Sokka shucks his shirt, reaching down to pull off his boots.

“It’s a SWEAT LODGE. You can’t sweat properly if you got your loincloth on. Makes everything smell like the inside of a tuna-whale.” he says, peeling off his thick arctic camel socks and stuffing them into his discarded boots.

(At Suki’s insistence, he’s taken to washing them at least once a week, even if he did accidentally leave everything outside to freeze solid the first time he did the laundry.)

“What.”

Yep, there is definitely fear in that voice. Sokka restrains the urge to laugh at the victim/Zuko's expense as he kicks his thermals off.

“It means we’re getting naked Jerkbender, try to keep up.”

The affronted choking sound Zuko makes causes him the tiniest flare of guilt. It’s true that in some ways the Fire Nation is far ahead of the Water Tribes, what with women serving in the military and the prevalence of steam power, but in other ways, they are very, very much in the dark. How they feel about bodies is one.

In the Water Tribes, at least in the South, nakedness and well, sexuality is not really a big deal. Part of it stems from necessity, during the Dark Months the whole tribe crowds together in the longhouse for warmth and the easy sharing of resources, and well, people don’t stop being PEOPLE just because they’re in close quarters. (Subsequently, most Water Tribe kids learn what sex is very, very young.) And besides, if someone falls through the ice they need to get warm NOW, no point in quibbling about your buddy seeing your delicate bits. After that, well, Tui and La aren’t ashamed of being naked and La certainly didn’t give birth to the world all by her lonesome, so why should anyone else feel weird about it?

It’s very different in the Fire Nation of course. But Dad always says a naked man has no secrets, and considering the nature of the questions Sokka intends to ask, that is VERY important. Besides, a good steam does wonders for the muscles. He’s doing Zuko a favor, really.

“There is no way I’m doing that.”

This time Sokka does roll his eyes.

“Look, the Sweat Lodge is important alright? We go every time we have something hard to do and it’s directly connected to Tui so there are certain rule- What are you doing?”

Zuko has somehow managed to wedge himself in the corner, facing the wall with a sort of concentration Sokka usually associates with his Dad cutting out an ice-eels liver to avoid the poison from leaking out and killing them all. Sokka sighs. This may require some subtlety.

“Look it’s nothing anybody in there hasn’t seen before. And before you say anything dumb about your scars I will remind you that all these guys have had some serious clashes with firebenders, same as you. Burn scars aren't something to write home about and anyway, scars are badges of honor out here. It means you survived and you gave as good as you got. The only reason somebody might stare is because most people who take a blast of fire straight to the face DIE, meaning you’ve got some serious staying power, which is almost better than straight strength out here.”

Sokka took a deep breath.

“Besides, it’s tradition, your already in here, Katara made me promise to take you for a steam and I’ve hidden your boots, so unless you fancy walking around in the snow barefoot you might as well strip down and go take a good steam before I call Unalaq and Toklo to carry you in and embarrass you with stories about all the girls they dated when they were young and trust me when I say they do not leave out ANY details.”

The glare Zuko gives him could kill a lesser man but hey, progress.

33333333

“So. About you and my sister.” Sokka says, reaching over to add another hot stone to the pile in the center of the lodge.

Zuko, who despite himself seems to have been relaxing over the past half-hour or so, jerks upright like someone just stuffed snow down the back of his shirt. (Though how that would work when their both butt naked in a sweat lodge Sokka isn’t entirely sure.)

“Kat!? Uh, Why? I mean, what about her?”

Interesting. Sokka hadn’t missed the use of the nickname either. Even so, he keeps his tone of voice nonchalant.

“I was just wondering if you’ve noticed anything odd with her. I’d ask her, obviously, but you know Katara. She thinks she’s got to take care of everyone else, me and Dad included, so she keeps things all bottled up cause she doesn't want anyone to worry. She’s pretty good at faking it too, for short periods at least, and letters aren't exactly being there, ya know? I was just wondering if she seemed down or anything, what with the anniversary coming up and the Pudong trade delegation coming to stay with you guys.”

Did the room get subtly hotter? Did the briefest flicker of flame appear in Zuko’s hands when he mentioned Pudong? Time to probe a bit deeper.

“Dong Zhou isn’t going to make an appearance is he?”

Yep, that was definitely some steam clearly NOT coming from the rocks in the center of the room.

“Absolutely not. I made it EXPLICITLY clear that if Pudong wants any chance at an agreement that weapons-smuggling buzzard-wasp better not come within 100 meters of the shoreline.”

Well. That was good. And also probably a pain in the ass for Zuko, politically speaking. But considering that the last time they met Zuko had to be physically restrained from punching the Silk Merchant’s face in by both Aang and Toph, it was probably for the best. It was also probably for the best that Sokka hadn’t been there to see that particular interaction go down. Considering what that bastard did, Sokka would have HELPED.

He settles on nodding.

“Good. That’s good. Thanks for that, buddy.”

Zuko visibly relaxes and smiles a little lopsidedly. 

“Yeah. No problem.”

Sokka nods again and sprinkles a little more water on to the stones, which pop and sizzle like fat in a pan before leaning back to bask in the freshly renewed steam. Zuko does the same.

A couple minutes pass in relative silence. Sokka cracks open one blue eye. Zuko also has his eyes closed, apparently happy to let the conversation drop from there.

Damn.

Sokka rolls his shoulders and sighs, quietly.

Time to go for broke.

He gives an exaggerated and completely disinterested yawn. Seriously, they should cast him in the Ember Island Players for theatrics like this. He keeps his gaze affixed to the cedar boards over their heads.

“I’m glad she’s doing well. Between you and me I think the Fire Nation is the best place for her right now.”

He hears a shifting of weight. He’s got Zuko’s attention now.

“How so?”

Sokka shrugs his shoulders. (Seriously he might have missed his calling!)

“When the war ended, do you know what the first thing I wanted to do was?”

“Make out with Suki? Eat an entire hippo-cow singlehanded?”

“No! Well, yes, now that you mention it but the first thing I really wanted to do was come right back here. To the South Pole, I mean. We were in that tea shop all talking about what we wanted to do with our lives and you all had these big sweeping plans. You were going to bring honor back to the Fire Nation, Toph was going to start her own earthbending school, Aang wanted to bring back the culture of the Air Nomads… and I just remember sitting there and thinking, I just want to go back home. Get married to Suki, have a few kids, train to take over the Tribe from Dad one day. Rebuild our way of life the way it was before all this war mess happened. Follow the herds and track the seals and fish out to the outer islands. Build up the Tribal center. Start the shipyards up again, not just repair the stuff we already had. Stuff like that. But Katara…”

Sokka paused, thinking back.

“I remember she stood up and said she was going to change the world. She didn’t know how yet, but she was going to make the world shake until she got it just the way she wanted it.”

He swallows hard, a mixture of pride and sorrow forming a hard lump that makes it hard to breathe. He will deny to his dying day the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

“That’s… That’s when I knew she wasn’t coming back with us. Not forever. Not to stay.”

Still staring at the ceiling, he waves away any rebuttal his Lodge buddy might have.

“Don’t get me wrong, it was great. We had Dad back and she was training the new waterbenders and helping me construct the new Tribal center. She had all these awesome ideas about what we could do and how we should work, but we’re too small for her. We’re all striving for normal. For BORING. Everyday stuff, you know? And Katara...She can’t DO every day, not anymore. She sees an entire world out there and she wants it. She wants it to be BETTER than it was the day before. Good enough doesn’t cut it for her.”

This time he does look at Zuko. The Fire Lord's eyes are wide as they will go. He probably wasn’t expecting an existential reflection on What Katara Needs To Be Happy from the meat and sarcasm guy today, even if Sokka is her brother.

Sokka charges forward regardless.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is you’re good for her. She’s ALIVE over there. You, that palace, all those problems you guys have to deal with; she NEEDS that. It’s HER, even if she does occasionally want to freeze some people to the ceiling. She can’t get that anywhere else. Not with Aang, not with me and Dad, not in the Earth Kingdom, not in the Council of Four. She needs you Zuko. And I’d bet my Space Sword you need her just as much as she does. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Zuko's blushing like a sunrise in autumn.

“I… I mean… I’m not quite sure what you mean by… Yes.”

Well, that’s not what Sokka was going for but it will have to do. Besides, the basic sentiment is still there. Zuko and Katara can figure it out from here.

Sokka stands and rolls his neck.

“Right. Super. Awesome. Glad we understand each other. Just so we’re clear if you knock her up before you guys are married Dad and I will make sure they never find your body.”

“Wha-?”

“Who wants to go jump in a frozen lake!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MADE IT! *proceeds to collapse on the ground groaning about chapter length and page count*
> 
> Hi guys!
> 
> You may have noticed this chapter is shorter than the others. That is because I spent the better part of two months working on the first two and about a week working on this one. Forgive me.
> 
> Originally I thought I was going to do another awkward nudity scene, this time between Zuko and KATARA. After discovering I had no idea how to write that I threw in the towel and decided on a rather less awkward but still slightly uncomfortable bro-talk between Sokka and Zuko concerning Katara and giving Sokka's perspective on the whole blossoming romance.
> 
> Mostly because I love Sokka. Never change sweet boomerang boy.
> 
> Hope you like it.
> 
> SleepyPlant needs a nap, goodbye!


End file.
